


but all the stars in texas ain't got nothin' on your eyes

by mikantsumiki



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, boyfriend shenanigans of the john egbert variety, its way better than it sounds yeah ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikantsumiki/pseuds/mikantsumiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there were rewards for the worse boyfriends ever, John Egbert would beat all of these assholes in a heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but all the stars in texas ain't got nothin' on your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know what this is but i hope you liKE IT

If there were rewards for the worse boyfriends ever, John Egbert would beat all of these assholes in a heartbeat.

Do you think you can even go into detail on why that is? Of course you can, and you most certainly will.

For one thing, he’s the worse when it comes to hogging the bed. This little fucker thinks it’s okay to take up all the room on your futon when the two of you are watching movies or playing video games, or when you’re tired and feel like sleeping, he thinks it’s peachy keen to just take up all the goddamn space on your bed like he owns it and when you try to get on with him, he pushes you away, says it’s his and leaves you to stand there.

Of course you can just push him off—and you most certainly do every damn time—but he’ll just get right back on afterwards.

If you were sleeping in it first, he’ll bitch and complain about how you didn’t leave him any room to join you. He’ll purposely lay on you until you move over, he’ll snore in your ear, he’ll make some of the weirdest sounds you’ve ever heard out of a teenage boy and sometimes, he’ll even imitate farts so that you’ll wake the fuck up.

Most of the time, it works; when it doesn’t, John will steal your sheets and pillows until you finally notice him.

And speaking of which, he likes your attention a little too much. He likes your praise too, especially when he shows you pranks he’s been perfecting and you give him a nod of approval. You’re sure those really jingle his bells.

He’s like a little puppy when it comes to praise, eager and ready to please. (He’s like that in other areas too, but you’re not sure you can think about that without getting a boner).

Besides the bed and the couch and sometimes the whole backseat of your car when you’re driving around, John likes to hog other things as well. A big example would be Dave, not that you really care or anything, he’s just your brother—son in a sense?—and it’s not like you don’t see the rut enough or anything, but goddamn it’s such a pain when you want to hang out with him but he’s hanging with Dave so you can’t have him for yourself.

(At least, it was like that before John had decided to spill the beans about this whole mess of a relationship the two of you had. It was awkward at first, but eventually things died down and now you can relax without having to worry about rushing kisses or quickies before he gets home).

The worse thing he hogs is your Netflix account, scrolling through endless movie titles and picking out the ones that sound cool—you mean the ones that probably _suck ass_ —and then watching them for hours on end. Sometimes, he does it when it’s just the two of you; often, he brings friends and you get stuck being some guardian again over an apartment of snot-nosed little brats who don’t know the meaning of ‘please’. All of them end up hogging your food as well and leave you with just crumbs afterwards.

You wonder what happened to your social life sometimes.

Another thing you hate about John Egbert is that he’s messy, he’s messy and he leaves things out of place, he makes your apartment even messier than it was before he came over (you don’t let him walk all over you though). He goes through your things without a care, he’s such a little snoop, what’s he trying to find though? It’s not like you’re keeping anything from him that he doesn’t already know about from previous snooping adventures. He leaves his clothes wherever he feels like, he doesn’t clean up after himself in the bathroom, he uses your shower as he pleases and runs up your water bill. He wears your clothes like they’re his own and he makes sure you know that, practically flaunting that delicious ass of his around in your boxers that barely fit him.

He also likes taking your hat—or should you say hats, because you can’t have just one anymore. At first, it was just some practical joke in which he’d wear it while leaving your place and when he’d come back the next day, you’d snatch it back. Back and forth that game went for a while before the grubby little ass kept it, stuck his tongue out at you for being ‘too slow’ at the game and said that you should get a new one, the damn thing was ratty anyway and besides, it looks better on him!

Like hell it does.

So you go out of your way to find another one that looks the same, or close, anything’ll do for now, searching websites and stores for some and after a while, your search isn’t useless. When you do, you buy a bunch and stuff them in your closet in a box high enough so that he can’t reach them. You don’t tell him about it either, make him think you’ve only got one other.

How he finds out doesn’t surprise you.

How he reaches them doesn’t surprise you either.

What does surprise you, however, is how he sneaks out with them in tow.

He taunts you with them too, wearing them out in public and trying to pretend he’s you—sometimes he grabs for your shades too, but there’s no flipping way he’s gonna snatch them from your face, he’s too slow and you’re not up to answering eye color questions from strangers—with his obnoxious Texan twang accent and trying to use Bro puns like he knows how to.

(He’s the worse; it’s like when he tries to make metaphors too, they’re too tangled and don’t make any sense whatsoever.

He must’ve got that from Dave).

He’s definitely better than the first time he used puns on you, which was when he first asked you out. What is this, high school still? Since when do you get asked out by teenagers anyway? He waited until the two of you were alone and cornered you in the kitchen while you were trying to fetch something to eat. He was beaming with some smug grin on his face and said he wanted to ask you something. Not knowing what his intentions were, you told him to shoot his question, you don’t have all day and these hot pockets weren’t gonna cook themselves.

That’s when he did it, getting into your personal space and asking if you’d be his _brofriend_.

Yeah, you didn’t hear that wrong. You thought you did at first but you were wrong about that too.

He said brofriend like that was the most common fucking thing ever and then didn’t even give you time to say anything before he was kissing you.

He’s one of the sloppiest kissers you’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing; he’s all tongue and teeth and no coordination whatsoever and it doesn’t bother you until he’s down by your dick because, yeah, you’d rather him stop biting when it comes to your crotch, you’d like to use it a bunch more times before you shrivel up and die.

When he pulls away, he says he thought you’d enjoy the pun since you’re ‘all about them’. You’re silent for a while, almost stone-faced just to see his reaction, before your lips turn up into a small smirk.

Damn this kid and damn his stupid puns and his silly face and hair and eyes and damn your brofriend.

The last thing you hate about John is that he’s so pouty when he doesn’t get everything he wants. You’re not Santa Clause, even if you did dress up as him once upon a Christmas ago just so that you could have him sitting in your lap, and you can’t grant all his goddamn wishes—not like you’d want to anyway, he’s also so _needy_.

Sometimes he tries to make you buy him things like you’re his father and have all of this money—ok, scratch that, you do have all this money, but it’s definitely not to spend on this asshole—just to use on him. He does this most of the time whenever he wants pizza, asking you to order him two pies just for himself. Uh, fuck that, he’s only getting one and you’re getting your own two pies, it’s not like he’ll eat all of it anyway.

He wastes it half of the time and then you and Dave spend two weeks eating frozen pizza until it’s all gone.

He even pouts when you won’t kiss him, whether it’s because his breath smells like the last disgusting meal he ate or because it’s just been on your cock and you’d rather not taste yourself, wow that shit’s nasty. He needs to understand that his face isn’t going to get him everything in the world, no matter how bad he wants it and damn does he want it bad.

Sometimes he pouts about not having sex with you. When he’s asking for it, you’re usually busy, you’ve got important things to do besides tending to his needs twenty-four seven, like running your site and he doesn’t understand that. He’ll interrupt you while you’re in the middle of making a brand new model of smuppets when you’ve told him not to, say he’s bored and that you could possibly change that if you come with him into the living room. As tempting as it is, you’ll decline, saying that if he still wants there to be a living room for such activities that he’ll fuck off for a while.

“But Bro,” is when he starts whining and boy, do you hate it when he whines like some needy bitch. But Bro nothing, John. But Bro has shit to do that doesn’t involve fucking all of your orifices, John. But Bro’s trying to make some impressive toys and you’re bothering the ever-loving fuck out of him, John.

But Bro nothing!

Besides, the fucker doesn’t realize how loud he can be sometimes, probably waking up the old neighbors downstairs with all the screaming he does every time. You’re sure by now he’s doing it to be an asshole. You’re also sure he’s doing it so that you’ll keep doing it because you like it when he screams and moans and acts like every move you make is a new magical touch to his skin.

Unless he’s somewhere public, like that one time where he dragged you down to Party City to look for Halloween costumes, not that you were gonna buy anything here, you already had your Ring Toss costume at home (maybe John could toss a few rings onto your pole), but it’s still fun to watch him try on underrated costumes. He tried on this one costume of a horse’s head on his crotch with a rope hanging from his neck (“haha, get it dude? hung like a horse!” “I get the double meaning, John, no need to explain it.”) and you’re not sure how it happened after that, but then you ended up in the dressing room with him and let’s just say that John had a hard time keeping quiet.

Not that you can blame him or anything, you are pretty great. The way he bites at his fingers is pretty sexy anyway.

Despite the fact that he’s underage, he can’t drink or go to clubs with you, can’t drive a car yet—which forces you to drive him everywhere—and then procrastinates about getting a license, you’re sure he likes watching you drive, makes movie references often and at the most inappropriate times and is one of the most demanding and sassiest boys you’ve ever met, the kid’s really growing onto you and you love having him around, even if he makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes (you can’t do that though, to him you already look like an old fart, he gets punched whenever he reminds you and you’re not gentle about it either but it’s not like you’re gonna leave marks (at least not those kind)).

If this isn’t love, you’re not sure what is and you’d rather not find out. You’re fairly happy with this blue eyed monster that snuck his way into your life (and into your heart).


End file.
